Twenty minutes later,
Nero was ready. Old Inanna led him to the castle gates. There was a second camp
there, very different from the one in the city. Its inhabitants were also
devils, of all genders, but these were warriors. There weren’t many of them,
yet each one took up far more space. The devil men were muscular,
broad-shouldered, carrying massive weapons. The women were lean and wiry, their
bodies toned and strong.
Old Inanna walked among them calmly. The warriors stepped aside and bowed their heads in short but respectful gestures. To Nero, they raised their chins: a respectful, if generic, greeting. The castle entrance was a wide corridor leading to a garden. From there, one could ascend to the private quarters, but the lights did not lead that way. The garden was dimly lit from strategic points to preserve the shadows. It smelled fresh and was full of white flowers overflowing from their flowerbeds.
There was only one path open: the one leading to the throne room. A formidable warrior suddenly appeared down that path, striding forward with an axe slung over his back. Upon seeing Old Inanna, he slammed the axe into the ground, rested his hands on its hilt, and bowed until he was almost at a right angle.
—Don’t overdo it so
much, Enkidu —said Old Inanna.
—I do what’s right —said the man called Enkidu. His voice was melodic, at odds
with his massive frame—, and I do it only for those for whom it is right to do
so.
—I appreciate that —said Old Inanna. She sounded sincere.
—Who are you? —said Enkidu, pointing at Nero.
—I’m just passing through —said Nero.
—Ah. One of those. You know, I was just passing through once, a long time ago.
But not here: in Uruk, the city of beginnings —said Enkidu—. You should meet the
king. He’ll change your life.
—That’s why I’ve brought him. Is His Majesty available? —said Old Inanna.
—He’s sealed the throne room doors. He’s in a contemplative moment —said
Enkidu. Then he turned to Nero and motioned roughly toward the corridor he had
come from—. When the doors open, go through them. Speak with the king. Then
return and tell us how it went.
—I… —Nero decided not to argue. It seemed they were going to leave him alone—.
All right. Should I wait here?
—Yes. I’ll escort your hostess back —said Enkidu.
They left Nero alone
in the garden. Silence quickly took control of the place, wrapping everything
in its invisible cloak. He was inside now. All that remained was to find the
ambrosia, if it even existed.
Nero made a quick
inspection. The garden had only three exits: the one he had come from, leading
to the soldiers; the one to the throne room, where the king they insisted he
meet was; and the one leading to the private quarters, shrouded in total
darkness.
He shook his hair
loose. The disguise had worked, but he hadn’t made much progress. He decided to
try the path to the quarters. Taking one of the lanterns, he discovered it
contained the same butterflies as the ones he had seen in the city, and began
to ascend.
He had to stop before
reaching twenty meters. The climb was nearly vertical, and the corridor had
collapsed long ago. The farther he got from the garden, the stronger the stench
of rot became, one the demons seemed perfectly used to. Something evil was up
there, lurking in the dark, trapped behind the stones that blocked the way.
“It can’t be this way.
There’s no crossing it,” Nero thought. He turned back to the freshness of the
garden. Moonlight washed over the flowers, giving them a fae-like glow.
A few seconds later,
Nero started and looked up at the sky.
The moon stood at its zenith, surrounded by tiny stars that shimmered, distant
and mysterious.
—It’s not a sight you
get everywhere —said someone to his left.
Nero turned. The voice belonged to a woman walking among the flowerbeds, a bloom in her hand and her eyes closed. She was human, pale-skinned, her hair tied in braids that fell over a cloak covering nearly her entire body. A scar ran across her right eye, yet even that added to her beauty. Her presence, however, was terrifying. She had spoken barely a word, yet she had somehow moved behind Nero without him hearing her approach, and all while wearing full metal armor.
—It’s beautiful —said
Nero, trying to play along.
—I saw you startle. That’s normal for those who live under a permanent ceiling
of clouds. Where I come from, every night is like this, or better —said the
woman. She twirled the flower in her hand, smelling it, rubbing the stem
between two fingers.
—I don’t know what you mean. I’ve seen the moon many times —said Nero.
—Of course. And I was born yesterday —said the woman.
—You were born yesterday? —said Nero, puzzled.
She let out a
crystalline laugh. At the sound of it, the flowers glowed faintly white. She
blew on the flower she held, and it shone with a white, magical halo. Nero
imitated her, blowing over the flowerbeds.
All of them reacted the same way.
—It’s the ambrosia you
were looking for —said the woman. She swept her cloak aside with a motion,
revealing a small three-pronged spear—. But you don’t seem like a bad guy, you
know?
—I don’t want trouble —said Nero.
—That’s true —she said—. Keep telling the truth. Maybe that way I won’t kill
you.
Nero looked at the
spear. It was tangled in her cloak. He, meanwhile, had his wand hidden in his
clothes, within reach. If he moved fast enough, she wouldn’t even have time to
react before he cast a destructive glyph on her.
—I’d rather you didn’t
try —said Nero, trying to sound brave.
—Ah, I wasn’t talking about me. I meant him —said the woman, leaning slightly
to the left to point behind Nero.
—I’m not falling for that —said Nero.
But a long, low growl forced him to turn around. Behind him stood a massive wolf, far larger than normal. It had two tails, its fur a mix of blue and white, the blue patterned like the starry night sky, rippling as though raindrops fell upon it, creating waves like those on a lake’s surface. Most striking of all were its eyes, deep amber and intelligent, an impression confirmed by its measured, deliberate movements.
Nero tried to step
back but slipped, landing on a flowerbed. From that new angle, the wolf looked
even fiercer, even more threatening.
—His name is Alastor.
And if he hasn’t killed you yet, it means he likes you —said the woman,
approaching the wolf and stroking its fur. The beast allowed it, calm and
obedient. It was clear the two knew and respected each other. As she continued
speaking, her tone shifted slightly, a sign of growing impatience—. You should
introduce yourself. Alastor likes to know his potential prey, just as I like to
hear the truth. Whenever you’re ready.
Nero swallowed and got
to his feet, stumbling backward. The flowers around his feet began to glow,
small halos of light blooming above their petals. Nero felt his magic surge,
but only for an instant. He drew his wand, which made the woman’s expression harden.
He tried to back away from both her and the wolf without taking his eyes off
them, walking backward, until he bumped into someone and froze.
—Don’t frighten the boy, Lady Misteltein. Can’t you see you’re scaring him? —said the man behind him. He was a devil, muscular, his arms covered in tribal tattoos. He wore a torn cloak adorned with golden spikes. No shirt, but five sheaths hung from his belt, three of them with blades still inside.
—Your Majesty —said Misteltein. Both she and the wolf bowed slightly before the
king of the Nomadic.
—I’ve told you a thousand and one times, you may call me Gilgamesh. How many
more times must I say it? —said Gilgamesh, the king.
—Always once more, Majesty —said Misteltein, smiling.
Nero stepped back but
did not bow. He didn’t know if these people were friends or foes, but he knew
he was cornered and needed to escape.
—Tell me your name
—said Gilgamesh. His words flowed like liquid gold, and carried the same
weight.
—My name is Nero, Majesty —said Nero, unable not to answer.
—A fine name, Nero. Why do you wish to steal the ambrosia, Nero? —said
Gilgamesh. A sword materialized before him, unsheathed. It was golden,
broad-bladed. Gilgamesh drove it into the ground and gripped the hilt.
—I haven’t come to steal any ambrosia, Majesty —said Nero.
—That’s a lie, I’m afraid —said Misteltein—. You’re a bad liar, Nero.
Nero stared at her,
perplexed. It was impossible that she could know when he was lying or not; they
didn’t know each other, and she had no basis to tell.
—Lady Misteltein is
not from this dimension, Nero. She visits Us from another realm: one called
Asgard. Her gift is most particular: she can sense the truth around her, as
well as the lies. Refrain from lying in her presence —said Gilgamesh.
—I… —Nero didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t reveal his origin; that would
make him an enemy. And he couldn’t allow himself to be captured; that would
doom his mission—, I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing here.
Misteltein nodded,
pleased. Alastor arched his back, positioning himself between Nero and her,
never taking his eyes off the intruder.
—Ravidra is a harsh
place. It reminds me of Uruk, the city we left so long ago. But within its
walls we’ve found temporary refuge, though soon we’ll return to the road. Our
journey never ends. We settle, then we return to the road. It’s a hard life,
the one we’ve chosen —said Gilgamesh—. Do you walk the road as well, Nero?
—Yes —said Nero. He didn’t add more, fearing Misteltein would expose him if he
lied. But the woman was focused on one of the flowers, turning it slowly
between her delicate fingers.
—But you don’t travel alone —said Gilgamesh. Nero said nothing—. I’ll ask you
again, Nero. What are you doing here?
Nero knew exactly how
to answer that question.
—Old Inanna told me to come. She said meeting you would change my view of the
world —said Nero, knowing it was true, though not the whole truth.
—You’ve met Lady Inanna? She’s our light amidst the darkness. Her goodness must
be preserved, or we’ll plunge into the shadows —Gilgamesh removed his hand from
the sword’s hilt and began walking among the flowerbeds—. Tell me something:
all your life you’ve felt you didn’t belong anywhere, haven’t you?
—I… I’m afraid so, Majesty —said Nero, sighing.
—It’s hard to be a devil in a society built around the castles of Sylthmir and
Praxoris. The monarchs are cruel, and their people have learned cruelty over
time. But here it’s different: We welcome everyone: young, old, strong, weak…
Being different unites us, and nothing separates us.
—Are you… inviting me to stay, Majesty? —said Nero.
Gilgamesh shook his
head. He walked to the corridor entrance leading to the warriors and whistled
sharply. Soon, two burly female warriors arrived, carrying something long
wrapped in fine dark cloth.
—I’m afraid not, Nero.
Do you recognize this? —said Gilgamesh, uncovering what lay hidden beneath the
fabric.
Nero’s breath caught.
They were two magic wands: Siphone’s and Larinca’s.
—What have you done to
them?! —shouted Nero, tearing off his disguise, for there was no point in
hiding his origin any longer.
—Why do you care what happened to them, Nero? Are the owners of these wands
your friends? —said Gilgamesh.
Nero hesitated, and hated himself for it. His relationship with Siphone was
nothing more than professional, but he did consider Larinca a friend.
Or at least, he once had, before she killed her own grandmother.
—You see, Nero? That’s
why I can’t let you stay. I am the king of these people, and I will not allow
anyone to harm them. Not even one of our own, like you —said Gilgamesh.
—I’m not one of you —said Nero—. I have a home.
—Cruel, but he believes it, Majesty —said Misteltein. Alastor, the wolf,
howled—. Seems he liked your honesty, boy.
—We haven’t done anything to your friends, aside from capturing them. All lives
matter. Including yours. You’re one of us. You’ll learn that, one way or
another —said Gilgamesh—. I’ve seen enough confused and scared people to
recognize them at a glance. And you’re one of them. Draw your wand!
Nero raised his wand
and prepared to face Gilgamesh. The King of the Nomadic smiled, sadly, and
raised two swords that hadn’t been there before, conjured out of thin air.
—That’s not a fair fight, Majesty —said Misteltein—. The boy is no match for
you.
—Would you like to join the fray and fight by his side, Lady Misteltein? —said
Gilgamesh.
—No, my time in this place is coming to an end. It’s time I return to the path,
to depart toward a wilder dimension. But my companion seems eager to join the
fight —said Misteltein, pointing at Alastor. The wolf crouched and ran beside
Nero, circling around his legs—. I think you’ll find Alastor quite a
stimulating opponent, Majesty. He’s a fierce warrior.
—Aren’t you afraid your loyal friend might lose his life, Lady Misteltein?
—said Gilgamesh.
—I don’t believe there’s anything in this dimension capable of ending Alastor’s
life, Majesty —said Misteltein.
—Then so be it. I’ll miss you, Lady Misteltein. It has been an honor to know
you. May the True Goddess Velmar protect you, wherever the path may lead —said
Gilgamesh.
“True?” thought Nero,
but he couldn’t continue that line of thought. Misteltein bowed, placing a hand
over her chest in gratitude. Then she gestured, and Alastor ran to her. After
caressing the wolf between his ears, he returned to Nero.
—Take good care of him, for no one knows when you’ll need a faithful friend
—Misteltein told Nero.
—You’re really giving me your wolf? —said Nero, surprised.
—Alastor belongs to no one but himself. You’ll see, in time. And if he wishes
to return to me, he will. He’ll find me. He’s one of the returnee. We always
find each other, one way or another —said Misteltein. Her voice carried a trace
of melancholy.
Misteltein left the
garden, and Nero had the feeling that he had met one of the strongest warriors
in active. The devil warriors, however, gathered in droves upon hearing their
king was to fight. Their faces bore smug smiles, and by the way they looked at
Nero, none of them expected him to win.
Nero looked at his new companion. Alastor met his gaze, and Nero understood the
immense intelligence hidden in those eyes. He channeled his magic, and the
flowerbed around them began to shine, this time, brightly.
—I see your resolve is unshakable, young Nero. I’ll offer you the same deal I gave your companions: if you survive four strikes, you may take the ambrosia, and I’ll release your friends —said Gilgamesh.
—How do I know I can trust your word? —said Nero.
—I am the king, boy. Without my honor and my word, I am nothing. Do you accept?
—said Gilgamesh.
—And what happens if I lose? —said Nero, conjuring a protection glyph.
—My scouts have spotted a Velmardian patrol nearby. We’ll hand you over to
them, and let the True Goddess Velmar decide your fate —said Gilgamesh.
—I accept, then. Not like I have much of a choice —said Nero.
—Perfect. I’ll strike you four times, and every strike will be a lethal one.
I’m sorry. Ready or not, here I come —said Gilgamesh.
Moving at a hellish speed, Gilgamesh lifted one of his swords and descended upon Nero with the power of lightning. Nero had silently prepared several more protection glyphs, but nothing could have prepared him for Gilgamesh’s strength.
In less than a fraction of a second, all his glyphs shattered, while
Gilgamesh’s sword pierced through them one by one in a straight line until it
reached Nero’s body. By instinct, Nero had twisted aside, using his tail for
balance, and that saved his heart from being pierced, though his left shoulder
was impaled.
When Gilgamesh pulled the sword back, Nero screamed in pain. Blood stained his
clothes, and his vision blurred.
And there were still three blows left.
—Impressive, kid!
—shouted one of the warriors. It was Enkidu, cheering from the garden’s
entrance.
—Indeed it was —said Gilgamesh—. Not a matter of luck, nor of skill, but of
muscle memory. Your body’s used to danger and always ready to take a hit. Sad,
but not surprising: after all, you’re a devil, and no one knows better than us
what it’s like to be hated by your own kind.
Nero didn’t answer.
The blood loss made him dizzy. Looking down, he saw how the ambrosia absorbed
the drops of his blood and turned white again, pristine and pure. He channelled
his magic once more, healing the wound, though the dizziness persisted.
—Well done, boy. Here I come again —said Gilgamesh.
This time, Nero went on the offensive. He unleashed a barrage of lightning bolts toward Gilgamesh, hoping at least one would hit and give him a few seconds’ advantage. But it didn’t. A silver sword, its blade reflective as a mirror, deflected all the magic to the sides, allowing Gilgamesh to strike Nero again, this time with a sweeping slash.
Alastor intervened, striking Nero’s legs and tugging at his cloak with his
jaws. That pulled him away from the sword’s arc but sent him crashing to the
ground. However, the move caught Gilgamesh off guard, and he burst out
laughing. As he did, Nero managed to land one of his spells on him, petrifying
his torso down with an engraved rune of motionless freeze.
—You’re skilled, I’ll give you that. No one’s ever dodged two of my strikes in
a row. Not even Enkidu, and we’ve known each other since we were kids. Sadly,
that won’t stop me —said Gilgamesh. His tattoos glowed, and the petrification
vanished—. Now I’m going to get serious, Nero. I’m sorry.
At those words,
Gilgamesh vanished. Nero looked around, searching for him. Even Alastor
couldn’t find him, no matter how he sniffed the air. So Nero did the only
logical thing: conjure a barrier of defensive glyphs all around him, hoping at
least one would block the incoming blow.
Something struck him from behind. Before him stood Gilgamesh, his expression
deadly serious. Nero tried to attack, but his arms wouldn’t move. No part of
his body obeyed him. He coughed, and blood filled his mouth.
A sword was piercing his chest: straight through the heart.
—Remember, Nero. The True Goddess Velmar has never rejected those who beg for
protection —said Gilgamesh, though his voice sounded distant.
Nero tried to channel
magic, but nothing happened. He couldn’t feel his fingers, or his face. He was
freezing, yet his chest burned. A final breath escaped his lips, and everything
went black.
-----
Nero opened his eyes. The smell of dry paper and accumulated dust was unmistakable: he was in the library. But this time, it was different. Before him stood Scheherazade, the librarian. Looking straight at him, yet not quite at him.
—Welcome, heir to the Legacy of Time, Nero —said Scheherazade.
Nero tried to reply, but no words came out. His body was still numb; no muscle
would respond.
—You’ve already met the Paradoxical Maiden. I saw it in the Book of Yomidgard.
Yours is the only story that appears clearly. The other pages… are far less
precise —said Scheherazade.
Nero turned his gaze
away, noticing something moving between the shelves. From its shape and color,
he knew it was Alastor. How had the wolf reached his dreams?
And more importantly: when had he fallen asleep?
—I cannot see what your choice will be, heir of the Legacy of Time. Will you
join our cause? Will you become one of the Seven Sages, those destined to save
all dimensions? —said Scheherazade.
Nero tried to answer,
but couldn’t. Suddenly, his memories came rushing back. He wasn’t asleep: he
was dying. A sword was impaled through his chest. This was his end.
—…no… —said Nero. It was the only word he managed to articulate. He wanted to
tell Scheherazade, “I can’t do it alone,” but all that came out was “no.”
The librarian looked at him, sorrow in her eyes. She closed them and lifted her
head, drawing a slow breath before speaking again.
—Please. Help us, Nero —said Scheherazade.
But Nero was no longer there. Scheherazade tried to reestablish the link using her dream magic, but it was impossible. Frightened, she checked the Book of Yomidgard.
Nero’s name was gone from its pages.
And that could only mean one thing.
—Nero is dead —said Scheherazade, utterly heartbroken.
THIS STORY WILL CONTINUE IN THE NEXT COLLECTION OF THE EVIL CLUSTER
